


A Boy and His Shuckle

by MFM



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Gen, Introspection, Mystery, Surreal, Tragedy/Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFM/pseuds/MFM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heartrending story of a young man and his most trusted companion, as they traverse dangerous landscapes in search of true freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Boy and His Shuckle

"Shuckle, my man," started Aran, holding the creature over his head, "we are going places. Look around us, after all!"  
  
The bug Pokemon proceeded to do so, and he was quick to discover that around them was sand, more sand, and a crashed airliner. Shuckle's blank stare returned its object of affection to Aran's face, which was quivering and convulsing erratically due to his master's intake of questionable fluids. Shuckle thought the liquids had smelled like strawberries, but he had never seen strawberries smoke like that.  
  
"Yes, indeedy!" Aran pursued, throwing Shuckle far above his head. His following inactivity, however, led to the hard shell falling back upon his head. "Fuckin' rock storms," he mumbled, his voice only slightly muffled by the rock hard shell smashing his face in.  
  
Shuckle rolled off of his master's face, largely by coincidence, before sparing him another gaze. Within the space of the moment-long gaze, Aran took to his feet, bolted in a random direction, ran back, grabbed Shuckle, and ran off again. The insect made a small noise of confusion, to which his brunet master scoffed.  
  
"What, Shuckle, afeared of adventure and wonderment?" Shuckle said nothing in reply, opting instead to move one of his appendages in the vague direction of what was facing them. A short distance in front of them, there was a cactus, shaped eerily similarly to a human. Aran pondered for but a second before declaring, "Excellent idea! One can never have enough cactus juice!"  
  
Drawing a kukri from a pocket where kukris should never be stored, Aran lunged at the cactus. The cactus promptly foiled the attempted slash, by virtue of its needles, directly into which Aran leapt. He withdrew his face from the exterior of sharp appendages and stared into the cactus's nonexistent eyes.  
  
"Shuckle!" cried he, drawing the shell bug's attention. He then slid over to his master across the desert landscape, his blank stare focused on his master. When the two were within spitting distance of each other, Aran did just that, a large wad of his saliva landing on one of Shuckle's eyes. Shuckle stared in response.  
  
The next few seconds were a blur to Shuckle. All he could remember after the fact was a flash of red, and he promptly noticed that his master had disappeared afterward. Now alone, Shuckle decided to do what all insects do for company: he buried himself. Glorious sand, pondered Shuckle, unable to hurt anything.  
  
Then Shuckle got sand in his eye, and he was sad.


End file.
